Life is but a Dream
by Life-in-shadows
Summary: Set in old times. Isabella, abandoned at birth, had lived her whole life alone. That was until an old, wealthy, dying woman welcomed her in as a servant to which she met her good friend Emmett. Life was bearable. But when the Hale family welcomes guests into their home, Isabella finds her infatuation with a handsome, and untouchable, duke sends her life spiraling out of control.
1. Chapter 1

_Hello everyone, I just want to say a few things. One: I apologise for any inaccurate language in accord with the time period of this story. Two: The progress of updating this may be slow, but it will be done as soon as possible. And three (as I can't remember anything else I was going to say): I hope you enjoy this story. Thank you!_

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Life is but a dream

"_Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream. Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stre_-"

Emmett broke me off mid-song, "can you singing something else?" He laughed, "you have been singing the same song for ten minutes now."

I smiled at him; he was on his hands and knees too. "I'm distracting myself." We've been scrubbing the already sparkling floor in the entry of the Hale mansion for almost an hour now and we weren't even half way through the huge room. When anyone stepped into the Hale mansion they couldn't hold back their surprise. The room that welcomed them, behind the extravagant wooden door, was large enough to have two staircases on either side of the room leading to the second floor and everything within the room complimented each other due to its similar shades of cream and mahogany red-brown wood. It screamed class, sophistication and wealthy living- all the things I was not. As was Emmett. He is new working here; he arrived seven months ago and was so shy he wouldn't say a word. It wasn't until I knew him well enough that he opened up to me and explained that he was brought to work at the Hale household as his parents had died in an animal attack. He was also employed because of tall and muscular figure and proposed he had the best hope of cleaning the chimneys and fireplaces. Primarily he cleaned what he was told to, but he was also stationed to help clean with me from time to time. It was a good day when we were made to clean with each other. He was the first friend I'd ever had. Like him, I come from a poor background; I've lived in an orphanage for a minority of my life until I lived on the streets. The kind old women, the original owner of this house, welcomed me in as a worker. However she died a year ago. I grew up without parents, but she felt the most like a motherly figure then any over person I've met. I cried when she passed.

"_Isabella?_ Are you lost in your infinite mind again?" Emmett teased, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I scowled at him playfully, he knew I hated being called by my full name-for I never knew my last name- "Will you sing a song with me?"

He looked at me sideways as if I was a crazy person he wanted to avoid and then went back to scrubbing, his huge muscles were tensed. "Alright," he agreed and I knew it was only because I asked, "but something other than 'row, row, row your boat'. Why do you care for that song so much anyway?"

"I used to sing it to myself," I told him as I scrubbed mercilessly at a stubborn footprint on the floor. "Whenever I got scared or lonely, it was oddly comforting."

He thought about that as our conversation fell into silence.

"Do you know what my mother used to sing to me?" he asked rhetorically. "_Dickory, dickory dock, the mouse rang up the clock. The clock struck one, the mouse ran down, dickory, dickory dock_." He was smiling at some old memory in his head, but when he met my blank expression he frowned. "Don't you know that one?"

I shook my head.

"Huh. What about this one? It's my favourite. _Goosie, goosie gander, wither shall I wander? Upstairs, downstairs, in my lady's chamber; There I met an old man, who would not say his prayers; so I took him by the left leg, and threw him down the stairs_."

I laughed, only because I knew which part specifically made it his favourite. "No," I said, still shaking with laughter, "I don't know that one either."

"Then you must know 'twinkle, twinkle little star'?"

I nodded, "I do."

"Well then," he said.

Then we sang together as we worked, "_twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are. Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the_-".

We were cut off by the sound of a big door swinging open. A gush of wind blew loose strands of my hair in my eyes as Rosalie Hale glided through the front door, which was held open by a servant boy. She paid him no notice and he was forcing himself not to look upon for too long. Of course she was beautiful, more than I wanted to admit. Her luscious blonde hair, that was visible under her large white hat, was pulled up on her head in an intricate knot, with dazzling pins holding it in place. Her long, expensive dress was white and light blue. I painfully looked at my tattered and filthy black and white uniform in contrast. I mentally winced.

"Singing, were we?" Rosalie's voice sliced the silence like a blade. Emmett and I knew her mean spirit too well, "You are not here to sing, you are here to _work_," she said scornfully but etiquette at the same time. She smiled suddenly, but her eyes remained vicious, "And to make me more attractive in comparison," she added as an afterthought.

I flicked a quick glance at Emmett, his head was down like mine and I saw his eyebrows twitch.

"Do not push your luck," She said finally before waltzing away smoothly.

I didn't lift my head until she was out of sight and I didn't look at Emmett again, nor did he look at me. We both kept our eyes down, our lips shut and our hands moving in a rhythmic pace.

It was another dreary hour for us to finish the wooden floor, though I still didn't understand the purpose of cleaning it when it was already so clean. No matter, the wood panels gleamed now and I was soon after given my next task- a task that had me repressing the urge to shiver.

_I was to tidy Rosalie's bedroom. _

I made a face to myself when I was alone in Rosalie's room; it was just like her appearance today. The walls were light blue, the colour of a clear sky, and had a floral pattern on them. I remade her bed, which was also blue and trimmed with white silk. I replaced the logs on her own personal fireplace, carved from white stone, with new cherry logs. Rosalie asks for them specifically and I can understand why, they smell like blooming flowers in spring.

I dusted the surfaces and furniture and gathered as much dirt and dust from the floor with a brush. I was finishing off, fluffing her pillows, when she entered the room.

"Why are you in _my room_?" She wasn't curious, or confused, but purely furious.

"I was given orders to prepare your room, Madame" the words burnt my throat on the way out.

It was then that I realised she wasn't alone. When the young man stepped out from behind her I relaxed minuscule-ly. Jasper Hale used to be every bit as scornful as Rosalie, until he found love within his suitor, Alice Cullen duchess of Northumberland. Now he was the kindest of the Hales, though even he didn't pay me much attention. _That_ would be crazy.

"Leave the work staff be, Rosalie," he said to her disapprovingly.

I was staring at the floor and not making eye contact as I'd been told to multiple times, when I saw in my peripheral vision that Rosalie's face changed from hatred to irritation. "You used to torment them with me, brother, until you met Alice. So don't preach high and mighty to me."

"Well..." he said slowly and quietly, as if he was hiding something. "We'll see if your perspective soon changes too..."

Rosalie face changed again, to confusion now, "What are you going on abo-_**stop touching my pillows with your **__**filthy hands**__."_ I had continued fluffing her pillows again, but drop them back on the bed and hurried to gather my cleaning supplies.

"_Rose_," Jasper retorted, frowning lightly.

I waited for a second to see if there was anything else I could do for them.

"That's all," Rosalie said, her words clipped but I could hear her trying to sound indifferent. "You may leave now."

I curtsied slightly and swiftly left the room without a single word or sound.

I made my way straight to the kitchen where the cook was busy preparing supper. The kitchen was oblong and decked with wooden shelves that displayed the multiple brass cooking equipment. I could see as I walked passed that the larder was fully stocked, after the morning delivery, with fresh pro-duce. When the brilliant, noon sunshine streamed through the windows the rays reflected off the brass and copper, filling the room with a warm, golden hue; along with the hearty smell of the fresh food brought to the boil the room was mildly comforting and homely.

Emmett was nowhere to be seen and before I could even think of looking for him a panicked and heavily stressed lower ranked servant darted in front of me. Her eyes were wide and she struggled with the pile of fresh towels she held in the crook of her arms. A look of hesitation flickered across her face before she shook it off, "The Housekeeper is looking for you," and with that she ran out of the kitchen as quickly as she had appeared.

I looked after her in bewilderment before trailing after her. When I first met the housekeeper, I had imagined him as a snobby man who was delighted with his higher powered position amongst the staff; I was completely wrong. He was actually down to earth and really considerate of my situation and position, as I was twelve at the time and was the Hale's scullery maid. Everyone had a name for the scullery maid- they called me 'tweeny' until I outgrew my position and was replaced. As soon as I found the housekeeper, he informed me of my jobs for the day, which basically entailed organising all of the other bedrooms in the house. He also told me that the Hale family were expecting quests too, so their rooms needed extra attention and care.

It was dark outside when I was finished all of the bedrooms. I dawdled to return my cleaning equipment before heading to the attic as there was nothing else for me to do but go to bed and sleep. When I entered the attic I saw Emmett turning the handle of his bedroom. He looked up when he heard me approach. "Hello," he said in a drowsy voice.

"Wow, you're tired."

"Yeah, Rosalie made me clean her fireplace until it was 'clean enough to tolerate'" he laughed, too sleepy to continue. He went to lean against the wall and misread the distance. I caught him before he could fall over.

"Whoa, careful. Go and get some rest, Em. I'll see you in the morning," I said, leading him into his bedroom. I let go of his arm when he flopped onto his bed, the springs groaned under the weight.

"'Night," he mumbled into his pillow.

"Goodnight, Emmett," I called behind me as I left for my room.

Our servant rooms were nothing next to the immaculate rooms we were surrounded by everyday; however, they were better than the cold, dark streets which I knew well. The only furnishings my room had was a simple bed, with thin sheets for covers, a box of my clothes and a rickety table that supported a single, half melted candle. The walls used to be green, as defiant shreds of wallpaper still rebelliously hung to the walls. Warn out over the years, the walls were now grey, more so than any over colour.

I dressed quickly and climbed, sluggishly, on to the uncomfortable bed and under the sheet that tickled my skin. The long day I had endured made falling asleep much easier than usual. My eyelids began to droop and it felt like seconds after that I fell into the comforting embrace of unconsciousness.

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Thank you! Please review :)


	2. Chapter 2

Hello again. This is the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it! :)

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Chapter 2

Of course, it felt like no time at all before I woke to the dull daydream that was my life.

It also wasn't long after when I found myself polishing the grand entrance door of the Hale house. While my mind was idle I thought of the type of 'company' the Hale's must be expecting. They must be very important in order to make such a fuss over. As I thought this, I heard the distant sound of horse's hooves. In shock I gathered up my skirt, for the sole purpose of not tripping but would later realise I showed too much of legs to be appropriate- although no one should have seen me- and ran inside to inform the housekeeper of their approach.

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The guests had arrived and were climbing out of their carriage on the other side of the entrance door I'd polished this morning. The lower servants were collecting their bags and only the five higher, trusted servants were in the entry hall when the guests came in. Mr. and Mrs. Hale stood together, closest to the door, with Jasper and Rosalie flanked behind them. They were all dressed in their best attire and had arranged all the servants to stand far back in a row so as not attract unneeded attention but not enough to blend into the background and go unnoticed-the Hale's wanted to flaunt their wealth.

As one of the servants in the line, on the far left, I was one of lucky ones to have the honour of meeting the visitors...and having my uniform cleaned thoroughly for our reveal. I inconspicuously looked over at Emmet who stood second in from the right. A bead of sweat fell from his hairline to his eyebrow before he quickly wiped it away.

When I looked ahead again, the door was being heaved open by the two door men. The first to enter were a couple, obviously in love, but closed the distance with an atmosphere of professionalism and companionship. Both of them were beautiful. The man, who offered his hand to shake Mr. Hale's, was blonde and had an open, sincere face that gave me a comforting feeling. The woman next to him was a few centimetres smaller than him and was neither blonde nor brunette, but a mixture in between. A warm smile spread across her heart-shaped face as she greeted Mrs. Hale compassionately. Their clothes were just as indescribably perfect as the Hale's.

I missed what the man had said, but I heard Mr. Hale reply, "It's good to see you too, Carlisle. I hope your journey was not tiresome."

"It was pleasant, my dear friend," Carlisle said.

"And what of you, Esme? How are you?" Mr. Hale asked.

"Wonderful. Thank you for inviting us."

"The pleasure is ours," Mr. Hale spoke on behalf of his wife too, who shifted on the spot.

I was beginning to think it was only the two of them visiting until I saw two other people bobbing up the front steps. They were shorter, obviously still teenagers, but just as handsome as their parents. The girl was petite and pixie-like, with short black hair smoothed down on her head. Her purple dress was frilly, fancy and very fashionable. She bounced lightly along, almost dancing her way towards us, with a happy grin on her face. Her eyes were only for Jasper, which made me realise that she must be Alice.

But I didn't notice much else after that. Everything seemed to fade away when I caught a glimpse of the boy who gracefully strolled in to stand next to his father. His golden hair haloed his head and sparkled in the sunlight. He was beyond words and description. My heart fluttered when my eyes finally adjusted enough to see his face. _Perfect, indescribable, heavenly and god-like _were the best words I could come up with at that moment, even with my thoughts clouded by his handsomeness. His angel's face was angular and set in a look of indifference, but there was hardness in his emerald eyes. He didn't look my way and I hardly expected as much.

"You have heard of my children, Alice and Edward," Carlisle waved at them in turn.

Alice curtseyed, but her eyes never left Jasper, who was beaming back at her.

The looks between them seemed so personal and private that I had to look away. Instead I disobeyed my orders and watched the angel again. _Edward_. Then I unwillingly tore my gaze from him to catch Rosalie ogling him too. I gritted my teeth, reminding myself that he would never be mine. Rosalie was the one who stood even a remote chance.

I envied the pounds in her pockets, without them she'd be no better than me. Though, with her looks, she wouldn't have been on the streets as long as I had.

Rosalie's eyes took Edward in and I saw his eyes harden even more before he bowed in greeting.

I glanced at Emmet for comfort but I saw his feet fidget uncomfortably. His shoes squeaked and he stiffened.

I didn't know the Hale's and guests had begun talking again until Mr. Hale rounded on me and the other servants I stood with. His face had turned from polite to murderous in an instant. He looked to his guests in apology before standing before the five of us, glaring in turn.

"Which one was it?" He spoke slowly and precisely.

I gave a sideways glance down the line and saw Emmet's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed nervously. His foot was a centimetre off the floor when I jumped forward from the line. I know he would have been punished for this, but now I have taken this away from him and put myself in his place. I couldn't bear the thought of Emmet suffering for something as insignificant as his shoes squeaking. But slavery isn't fair.

Mr. Hale summoned the housekeeper, gestured to me and then the door I knew too well would take me to the basement were no one would hear me. My hands began to shake uncontrollably, so I balled them in to fists.

I risked a quick look behind me. Emmet's face was horrified, he opened his mouth to speak but I shook my head at him. The other servants gave me a look sadness and admiration.

"Sorry about the interruption," Mr. Hale said smoothly to Carlisle, who seemed bothered. I saw the woman named Esme was watching me as if she wished she could help, but I could see the helplessness in his eyes.

Rosalie's eyes were as fierce as fire and burned with the intensity of her disgust.

I saved a glance for Edward, who seemed guarded. His eyes were narrowed slightly but were now warm, melted emerald that seemed to look at me with a strange, reserved kindness.

_Now I'm over-reacting_ I scoffed at myself.

Mr. Hale shot me daggers for meeting their eyes before the door shut behind me with a bang that echoed in my hollow head.

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It was agony. Only when a serious fault is committed or if the Hale's are appearing their best and something goes wrong is when a servant, like me, is punished in this fashion.

Whipping, or caning, across the back- so as not to be visible.

I knew for sure I wouldn't sleep tonight.

I had five lashes across my back. On the third lash, the hard leather whip connected with the nape of my neck and I reach up to cover it, only for my knuckles to be struck on the fourth swing. All the while I held back my agonised screams; that would only mean the lashes would be delivered with more force.

So I held my tongue and thought of peaceful things; things that don't associate with this pain.

Flowers in spring, families gathered at Christmas, the fresh smell of homemade bread and the clear sky on a Sunday morning...

When it was over, and I pulled my uniform gingerly over shoulders I felt the wetness on my back. I lifted my hand in examination and found the crimson substance I was expecting. _How could I be in so much pain without bleeding?_

I wiped the blood on the black part of my dress where it wouldn't show before using the back of my hand to rid the sweat that clung to my forehead.

The guard, that had delivered my punishment, was heavy-set and beefy. I wouldn't have thought I'd see anyone with more muscle than Emmet, but I was obviously wrong. The guard's face was expressionless as he dragged back into the basement stairs.

The house keeper was there, waiting at the bottom step, his face blank. The Guard nodded to him, handed me over and left. The housekeeper was silent until he was gone. He waited a few seconds, before reaching for my arm. He contemplated talking to me, then seemed to realise no one would have heard us. "Are you alright?"

I couldn't find words. I just stared at him, my face probably saying more than I ever could.

After a while he nodded and slowly helped me walk. "My name is Jeremiah." He said kindly, but hesitantly. "Jeremiah Hughes."

I hadn't known his name up until this point. I'd known him for years, seen and talked to him many times, so it bewildered me as to why he felt this situation was the right time to tell me his name. I mentally shrugged but now felt obligated to tell him my name; so I mustered up the strength in order to speak. "Isabella," I sounded like I was being strangled. "My name is Isabella, but you can call me Bella, if you prefer it."

"Do you?" He smiled openly.

I nodded silently as we approached the door to the entrance hall.

"Bella it is then," he spoke quietly.

I tried to straighten my posture when I heard voices on the other side and winced at the pain that shot up my spine. Jeremiah caught me before I fell.

"Careful," he cautioned lightly.

I stood erect again and breathed deeply through the pain. "I didn't think they'd still be there," I whispered.

"Nor I," he frowned and touched the door handle. "Ready?" He raised his eyebrows at me.

I nodded again and held my head high, hoping I didn't look as awful as I feel.

As soon as the door opened, Jeremiah and I bowed before returning to our acquired positions. I joined the line again, never for one second taking my eyes off the floor.

Mr. Hale cleared his throat loudly, "As I was saying, let us all convene in the courtyard and have a walk through the gardens. We mustn't waste a gorgeous day like today hibernating indoors."

There must have been a silent acceptance as all I heard after that was the shuffle of fabrics and the door closing behind them.

Emmet was there in an instant, wrapping his arms around me protectively.

"Ow!" I complained when he put his hands on my back.

He stepped back quickly and I saw his face, masked with the same horror I saw from him before, but his eyes were mad. "Why did you do that?" He growled angrily.

"Because I saw your face, I saw how scared you were."

He laughed without humour, "I wasn't scared."

I smiled a little. "Okay, I forgot, Emmet doesn't get scared."

He grinned in approval but was serious again. "I thought you were clever, Bella. Why? _Why did you do that_?"

I couldn't look at his face anymore: at the anger for my 'stupidity', the protectiveness of a good friend, the sadness at my pain and the guilt of his actions having brought me this fate. I looked at his hands that gripped my arms instead, seeing two of his nails were chipped and brittle, when I finally decided to tell him the truth. "Because Emmet," I said through the lump in my throat and the tears that threatened to fall down my burning cheeks. "Because," I started again, raising my head to watch his response as the words tumbled out, "you're closest thing I have to a family. I mean, you-you're like the family...that I...never..." that was all I managed to choke out before the sobs were too strong to hold back.

Emmet's face was shocked at first but smoothed into a happier expression of agreement before carefully putting his arms around me again. I felt his breath on the top of my head when he said "You've always been like a sister to me, Bella."

When we released each other, Jeremiah crossed the room and gave us specific instructions after warning us of our display. He assured us that even though he and the staff may understand, it was certain the Hale's would not, so he told us to keep ourselves professional in our working hours. Jeremiah seemed like a decent, middle-aged man and I was starting to like him.

Then began talking about our jobs for today; he sent Emmet away to clean the fireplace in the lounge-the job he would've gave to me if I could bend down. Emmet agreed to the job, so as not to put me through more discomfort, and left with a look of guilt on his face. I must comfort him later. "Now, Bella, I want you to help out in the kitchen. The cooks will be working twice as hard because of the Cullen's arrival."

"Cullen's?" I asked.

"Yes. They're the family that arrived this morning. The Hale family's guests," he explained.

I registered this for a minute. The Cullen's. Carlisle Cullen. Esme Cullen. Alice Cullen. And...Edward Cullen.

I wanted to say his name aloud but I resisted. Emmet was right about one thing, even though it's in a different context, I'm being stupid.

Jeremiah broke through my thoughts, "Also, every few twenty minutes or so, I want you to check that the Hale's and Cullen's have anything they need: food, drink, sustenance. We want them to feel comfortable in their stay here." He must have seen the panic looming on my face. "Don't worry, Bella, I won't be far away. I always stay near Master Hale in case of a change of orders."

He smiled in reassurance and I was able to smile back, not because his comforting worked, although that was part of it. I was able to smile through the irritation of the cuts on my back rubbing against the rough fabric of my uniform by realising that I would be able to see his face again. The face I should not have looked at or even be thinking of.

_Edward._

He'd never be mine, so why would I entertain the thought. I couldn't seem to help it. There was something about him, something that drew me in. The same thing, no doubt, that was drawing Rosalie to him too. However, I refused to think them, strolling through the gardens together, exchanging nervous glances and sheepish smiles. I refused to think Rosalie, with her indescribable beauty and wealth, had a chance of being with Edward more than I; even though I subconsciously knew it was impossible. I dared to hope that I, Isabella no last name, had even the smallest chance with Edward. If I could not have him then I hope he finds happiness with whom he does choose.

As my conscious mind caught up with me and ration thinking set in, I realised, with more torment than the searing torture in my back, that it was all hopeless and I repressed the urge to hope for the absolute impossible.

I'd settle for being his servant, as that is all that I could ever be to him.

Edward Cullen. _Why_ did it have to be _him_? What have I done to deserve this?

I have always wished for love at first sight. But why did I have to fall in love with a man I knew I would never have?

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-Thank you for reading! (I know the Duke and Duchess titles in this story are a bit wishy washy but I just picked random ones :] )

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	3. Chapter 3

As it turns out, I was ordered to perform the same job everyday- of serving the masters of the house. After a long week of slaving, I was treated one night to a lukewarm bath. My back frustratingly protested as I eased into the water. When the pain became too much I gave up with a sigh and sat awkwardly in the bath, curled in a ball. The slashes on my shoulder blades were definitely getting worse. I had to constantly resist the urge to itch away the irritation.

My uniform was the most maddening thing that came into contact with my skin. I filled my lungs, bracing myself, before slipping on the rough fabric of my work clothes. All the air came out as a long hiss.

I was down stairs in the kitchen by 6:45. One of the cooks, Margret, was already there. Her face was crumpled and aged with stress. She glanced at me quickly, frowning in envy, before returning to the stove.

I scanned the kitchen, "where are the other chiefs?"

"You tell me," she grumbled, "on their way down, but most likely still asleep."

I watched her crumpled form for a moment, my heart going out to her. Whenever the Hale's have visitors the amount of food expected on the table goes from a four course meal to a twelve course meal, all of them complex. "Do you need a hand?"

She seemed torn, obviously not sure whether it's allowed to let me help but also battling the heavy load alone. Or maybe she thought I'd burn something...or someone... "Can you cook?"

My lips twitched, "No, I've never cooked anything, but if you give me something simple to do I'm sure I'll be alright."

Her inner battle seemed to have ended and she huffed. "There's bread and rolls in the oven, they need to come out in ten minutes," she said absently cracking eggs into a basin. She seemed to wake up for a second, "be sure to use a towel to take them out, they'll be hot. In the mean time, can you whisk these eggs?"

"Sure thing," I said and copied her demonstration exactly. I was sure to follow her carefully articulated instructions, knowing this was dangerous for her.

Margret danced effortlessly around the kitchen, obviously comfortable with her surroundings. At first we barely spoke a word to each other but after fifteen minutes I was brave enough to ask all sorts of questions about her job here. She described openly about her mother's passion for cooking when she was small and how she wanted to make her proud. "I haven't seen her though, for seven years," she added quietly and full of remorse.

I distracted her quickly with another question and she fell into the stream of conversation willingly. She was starting to talk lovingly about her younger brother, Isaac, when I felt the oxygen leave the air. I backed away from the bread I'd just fished from the oven and choked uncontrollably. Margret turned to me, panicked, "are you okay?"

I was gasping, my breath too shallow to satisfy my lungs. I held my hands up until I caught my breath enough to speak, "I'm fine," I rasped. This has been happening for a few days now but not this extreme.

She forced a glass of water down my throat and didn't let go of me until she believed I was truly recovered. Even when she went back to poaching some eggs she didn't stop glancing at me frequently.

It was 7:20 when the other cooks arrived in the kitchen. Two of them gave me a dirty look to which I made a hasty retreat, throwing a smile over my shoulder to Margret. She smiled back when the others weren't looking.

Now that I had nothing to do, I busied myself with setting the dining table for breakfast. I honestly tried to keep my mind on my work, but I strangely kept thinking of the untouchable Edward Cullen. Hopefully, I could cater to them again today, that way I got to see him and much closer too. The closer he got the tighter my heart constricted; he's so beautiful.

My mind kept wandering to him as I polished the silverware before laying it on the table, folding napkins and arranging drinking glasses. I deliberated whether to place candles on the table and eventually shrugged; setting three on the long, ornate table that could seat twenty people.

I was straightening a knife so it was symmetrical with its paired fork when I noticed someone stroll into the room in my peripheral vision. I look up expectantly, with a huge grin on my face, expecting to joke Emmet on his lie in. Instead though, when I look up, I don't see Emmet's familiar, cheeky and boyish grin; I see Edward Cullen, dressed immaculately as always, his lips parted, revealing his shock. His green eyes gleam when me meets my gaze with -what? Humour? Anger? Confusion? I couldn't tell, his looks are hard to decipher and I only saw his face for an instant.

"Good morning, Sir," I bow to him, my eyes trained on a floor tile as I flush in embarrassment.

"Morning, Miss," he says softly, politely, taking me aback. My eyes widen and I fight the impulse to look up at his glorious face. No one of his stature has ever been this polite to me, or any other servant before in fact, _is he polite to his servants at home?_

I nod to him once, professional, eyes still down. "Is there anything I can get for you, Sir?"

I could see him shift his weight from foot to foot, "No, I'm alright. I'm sorry to interrupt you, Miss...?" He waited for my name.

My stomach twisted both with pleasure and fear. This is dangerous territory, if any of the Hale's found out I was talking to Edward Cullen, a _Duke_...I dread to think of the outcome...if a squeak of Emmet's shoe got me whipped...

I shivered.

"I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable," he replied after my long silence.

"It's me who should be apologising, Sir," I said- my voice sounded shaky, even to me. "I'm not sure as to whether I can give you my name."

When he spoke, his voice was softer, a whisper, which I could only just hear from ten feet away from him, "I promise not to tell anyone you spoke to me... If you tell me your name," he amended.

I took another breath, a wasted effort, I felt like I was suffocating again. "Isabella, but I prefer to be called Bella, Sir." I don't know what possessed me to say that.

"Bella," he said, testing it. My name sounded lovely on his lips."Thank you. It is lovely to have met you, Bella. You can call me Edward, if you wish."

I was knotting my fingers together in front of me, staring at them entwining. "I'm sorry, Sir, but I'm afraid my masters would not approve of our conversation, especially me calling you...by your name."

"Where I came from, my parents don't entertain the thought of treating our staff like the Hale's do here. It's quite unbearable to watch," he admitted.

"I don't mind it, Sir. I've been here for years, nearly all of my life. I'm used to it. Besides, its better here than on the streets," I frown. "This, I can say with certainty, is not a place I'd like to revisit." I winced and not only at the memories. _Why am I telling him all of this?_

"You have lived on the streets?" he asked, appalled.

_Of course it's a disgusting concept to you; you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth!_ I wanted to say; but that would be harsh, my troubled past isn't his fault. My hands started to shake in fear, "only for a while, Sir, when I was very young, but I'm cared for here."

"Forgive me for my boldness, Bella, but it seems _you_ are the one caring for _them_." I don't know if I was imagining a hint off distaste in his tone when he said 'them', which made me think he didn't believe me.

I grit my teeth together, hoping not to say too much again. "You can afford to be bold, Sir, I cannot. And I enjoy caring for others; I like to know I've helped someone. Now I'm sorry, Sir, but I must insist that I be getting back to work, else we'll both be in trouble."

"Are they compassionate to you?" he asked bluntly, ignoring my earlier request.

"I'm sorry, Sir, I must be getting-" I began but he interrupted, closing the distance between us.

"Are they civil? Do they treat you fairly?" he asks down to me, his voice intense.

_He's standing right in front of me!_ My whole frame is shaking now, my stomach clenched and uneasy.

"You can look at me, you know." His voice, softer than silk now, and his breath, as sweet as honey. "I will not say anything to anyone." He waited, and then his voice changed completely and became beseeching. He only said one word, but in it I heard his sincerity, honesty and trustworthiness. "Bella."

I held my breath as I tilted my head to look him in his emerald eyes. I saw his lips part as he gasped, shocked, obviously not expecting me to comply. He must have seen the fear in my eyes, as his mouth began to shape soothing words when the dining room doors swung open. I whipped around, my heart pounding in conjoined terror as I made out Rosalie's figure frozen in the doorway.

"Edward," Rosalie exclaimed through gritted teeth, feigning composure. "What are you doing?"

I unthawed from my rigid position and jumped back guiltily. Bowing to Rosalie, I uttered a quick "Madame" and I all but ran to escape the room. Rosalie, however, glided in front of me, cutting me off.

"Oh no you don't. I have a few words for you," he growled at me in a lowered tone. I assumed Edward wouldn't have heard her from the distance, but he must have read the anger on her face.

"Please, Rosalie, the fault is mine. I asked her to speak to me," Edward explained quickly.

Rosalie turned on him, "Why would you want to talk to her?" She kept her voice calm, but I knew she was furious.

Edward hesitated only for a moment, "I was asking what was for breakfast, and when it will be served."

She turned to me again, unleashing the full force of her fury through her eyes. I could almost feel her gaze burning my skin. "Did she give you a response?"

Edward swallowed, "Yes."

"Good," she said to my confusion. "Now, do you mind if I make some use of her now?" She batted her eyelashes at him but was already dragging me out of the dining room by the material at my elbow, not touching my skin.

When we were alone, she was in my face in an instant, "if you pull another stunt like that again you will be dead before you can blink. You leave our guests alone, understand?"

I hated to admit it, but I was too frightened to give any kind of reply. It wasn't Rosalie that scared me but the threat of death on anyone of the Hale's lips. When I gave no answer, she pulled her left lacy, white glove up to her wrist, covering her skin, before backhanding me across the face. I was too shocked to feel the pain yet.

"When my father hears of this, and be sure he will, you better prey that he takes kindly to you," she hissed in my ear before returning to the dining room. Before the door could swing shut, I saw Edward's ashen and anxious face before I ducked my head and bolted for the kitchen.

Mr. Hale had not found me yet, or maybe he had not yet heard. If not, he would hear soon enough.

I was standing outside in the gardens, baking under the brilliant sun and staring at a jagged stone. Of course I wasn't alone. The Cullen family, Mrs. Hale and Jasper Hale were outside enjoying the sunshine- even though the parents were under their designer umbrellas. Edward and Jasper are engrossed in a mini game of cricket.

The absence of Mr. Hale and Rosalie was starting to rattle me to the core. _I'm dead. There's no way I'll survive this. Mr. Hale hasn't been very forgiving in the past._ My back aced, emphasising my point.

Just then, Mr. Hale appears next to me. His glossy black shoes turned to me slightly, then away before striding towards his family. I released the breath I didn't know I was holding.

Rosalie glided past, not acknowledging me at all. I watched the pink skirt of her dress blow in the wind as she marched to her mother's side, whispering fervently in her ear. To my relief, Mrs. Hale waves her away, deep in conversation with Mrs. Cullen. Rejected, she turned her attention to Edward, as did I.

He looked so happy and carefree, wrestling a little now and then with Jasper, like real brothers. I found myself entranced with all his movements and gestures. I was like this, standing there gawking at him, when he noticed me staring. I looked away quickly, to Mr. Hale, and am relieved when I see he hadn't noticed. But I fell back into a pit of venomous snakes again when I turned to see Rosalie giving me daggers.

Someone came up behind me, to stand a few feet to my right. Emmet. I hadn't seen him all day and I hadn't been happier to see him in my life. He could see my appreciation, but he could also see my hesitation. "What's wrong?" he mouthed.

I just shook my head and turned to see Mr. Hale waving me over. My whole body turned to ice. I moved carefully, knowing that approaching him had no better outcome than if I were approaching the gallows. "Fetch us more refreshments," he said bitterly, regarding me as if I were a disgusting insect on his shiny shoes.

"Yes master," I said simply and hurried away. When I returned, Edward and Jasper's game had ended and everyone was seated around a circular white decking table. I placed the jugs of ice cold drinks in the centre of the table and made to retreat. At that moment, a silver cane, I hadn't seen Mr. Hale, gripping pinned my arm to the table. I felt all of their gazes on my red and sweating face. My fingers were trembling erratically, even against my fight for control. "Is there anything else I can get you, Master Hale?"

"6:15," is all he said, but I understood completely. This was when I would be punished. It wasn't enough to punish me immediately; it would be the anticipation that would torment me the most.

My breath sounded wheezy as I choked back a round of unexpected coughing, "Yes, master." Once the cane was gone, I took three steps back, away from the table, but staying close enough to be called for anything that was needed.

After a minute of awkward silence, Mrs. Hale continued her conversation to Mrs. Esme Cullen, then soon after everyone seemed to converse more lightly.

A maid appeared not long after to deliver some news to Mr. Hale, who frowned, excused himself and followed the servant back inside.

In the path of the sun, I felt myself burning up, or maybe it was Rosalie's occasional glare. My back was becoming unbearable, my neck seizing up and locking painfully. I looked quickly to Emmet, who was still watching me. "Are you alright?" he mouthed fiercely to me. Or something like that, I wasn't really sure, my eyes were blurry with unshed tears. _What's happening to me?_

I turned away from the Hale's and Cullen's to satisfy my intense need to cough, as quietly as I could manage, muffled in my hand. I did this every few minutes. When I tried to hold back I felt like I was going to choke on my tongue. Twenty-five minutes of this aggravating process is when the same feeling came over me as it had this morning. It was as if the oxygen had left the air and I could not get enough air in my lungs. I doubled over, flaring the pain in my back and I moaned between my fits of gasping and choking.

Mr. Cullen was on his feet and in front of me, his hand on my shoulder, "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

My legs gave out before I could answer and I could feel his arms around me, holding me up. "Edward, help me with her," he called.

Too quickly, Edward was there. I wondered if I was losing consciousness every now and then as I seemed to have missed most of what they were saying. I saw their mouths moving but no sound reached me past the pounding blood in my ears.

"Bella," I heard Edward whisper to me, grasping my attention. "What's wrong?"

I tried to find my lips and make them move. For a while, only more tortured moans came out, before I gathered the energy to blurt out, "my-my back." I winced, "my back hurts."

Carlisle looked to his son, "we need to get here inside. We'll try and lift her like this," he showed him quickly and then they were lifting me. Carlisle's hands were braced on my shoulder blades and the pressure when they raised me made a small scream escape my lips. They changed tactic, Jasper helping now as they blunderingly carried me through the house.

I blacked out for a minute and when I opened my eyes they were placing me carefully on to a double bed, face down. I started to panic, "no, no!"

"It's alright, Bella," Edward said, crouching in front of my face.

"No, if the Hale's know I'm using one of their beds they'll kill me," I sobbed a little, trying to get up. Edward just pushed me down again. And then it hit me, I'm looking at him and he's looking at me. My already racing heart picked up speed as I stared intensely into his bright emerald eyes.

"I'll take care of it," he said with a smile that didn't touch his eyes.

I heard Carlisle's intake of breath then.

"What?" Edward asked, rising to his feet and looked down at me, at my back. His reaction was the same as his father's. I hadn't notice them undoing my uniform, but Edward was a good distraction, even from the pain.

"I do not know what I was expecting, but this was far from it," Carlisle says to himself, before he composed himself. "How did this happen?" He asks, angry.

I didn't plan on answering but I didn't have to, Mrs. Hale had stormed into the room. "That is none of your concern!"

"It is if I have to treat her," Carlisle retorted.

"Who said anything about treating her? Leave her, now, she is just making a big deal out of nothing."

"_That_ is nothing," Edward thundered.

"Edward," Carlisle scolds.

Edward turns to him desperate, "Carlisle, you cannot possibly-"

"I will treat her Edward, but I need to know what caused this."

Mrs. Hale seemed to weigh her options for a moment, before growling through her teeth, "How my husband disciplines the staff, is none of your concern," she repeated with venom.

"Edward, run and get my bag," Carlisle ordered.

"I already have it," Alice announced, entering the room with a black leather case.

Rosalie was on her heels, her eyes only on Edward, "why are you helping her?"

I didn't hear his reply. Everything was growing quieter as Carlisle worked on my back, rubbing irritant salves over my injuries. I was screaming in the pillow under me, unable to hold them back any longer. For some unknown reason, it seemed to make me calmer. I felt the darkness receding on me. _I need him, I need to see Edward. I need to know the Hales' haven't hurt him for what I've done. _"Sir?" I called to him, but I can't even hear my own voice. "Sir?" I called, louder. When no reply came, I realised they would have no idea who I'm referring to. I suppressed my shiver and dug for all the courage I had left within me. "Edward," I breathed, my head feeling too light. His name felt nice on my mouth and was like a lifeline in the darkness. I was pulled back for a second, enough to see his anxious face a few centimetres from mine. The last thing I saw were his deep, green eyes widening perceptively and his mouth open to speak before I fell into an unwelcome darkness.


End file.
